


The Tempest in its Fury

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel Jackson was dangerous. Attraction was one thing - Jack was well versed in locking that down – feelings were another thing entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tempest in its Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Four Seasons thon at DW.

**Spring**

Jack watched Daniel as they sat, with Teal’c and Carter, at the commissary table. The Tollan had left with the Nox less than an hour ago and he was sure as the eggs on his plate were eggs – actually, scratch that, they could be eggs on his plate but there were no guarantees – that Lya’s legendary patience was being tested to the limit by obdurate Omac and Co.

Daniel was as happy as a sand boy, talking as she shoveled in the meatloaf, hardly stopping gabbing to wolf down the food.

“You did good, Daniel,” Jack had said. And he had. He’d stood up to and pissed off Maybourne – always a bonus in Jack’s book – made friends with an advanced civilization, a move which may yet pay technological dividends, and re-introduced them all to the wonder that was the Nox.

The boy was positively glowing. Not a boy, he corrected himself, a man. It was the boyish enthusiasm that did it, made Jack think of him as younger then he was. It was trap Jack fought against falling into every day. This man was one tough cookie.

Jack smiled to himself. He kind of hoped that the praise he had heaped on Daniel on the Gateramp might have something to do with Daniel’s current frame of mind. He hoped that a lot. Daniel was an amazing asset to his team and he didn’t tell him that often enough.

“I honestly think the possibilities for both races is, is, amazing. They can share so much, learn so much from each other. We have to keep in touch.” The last of the meatloaf was scraped off the plate and gobbled up. Then, as if the idea had only just struck him, he looked up, wide-eyed and said, “We have to visit. I mean, soon. Very soon. I hope Lya and her people would be open to that. If we can reach them. Somehow. It can be done, right? Of course, the Nox and Tollan could go their separate ways very quickly; their combined technologies could very well get the Tollan to their new homeworld sooner rather than later. We have no way of knowing where their co-operation could lead. In the meantime, they may have to co-exist. I could establish a record of the very beginnings of that co-existence and co-operation. Who knows? If the Tollan are there long enough, we could see integration. Oh ... and I’d need to research their individual histories, their development as discrete cultures, too. Either way, it’s, um, fascinating to consider. Studying what happens would be a huge project. But very necessary, I think.”

Daniel halted, chewed thoughtfully, and his gaze flicked from Teal’c to Sam to Jack, who weren’t eating , just looking at him. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

Jack laid down his fork. “Doing what?”

“Being annoyingly over-enthusiastic.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile. “On this occasion, I think we can give you a pass.”

Daniel swallowed and reached for his glass of water. “I still forget you don’t always share my passion for all things anthropological.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. That passion has probably just won us brownie points with some very powerful allies. And you’ve royally pissed off Maybourne, too. For that, you get to be over-enthusiastic all day long.” Jack raised his own water glass in salute.

“It’s been a good day for us, Daniel. You’re right to be upbeat.” Carter spooned in the last of her blue jello.

Teal’c nodded and added, “The Tauri, Nox and Tollan would be a formidable force against the Goa’uld, Daniel Jackson. This day, and your actions, are most worthy of note.”

Daniel shifted in his seat. “Thank you, Teal’c.” All this praise seemed difficult for him to accept. Not for the first time, Jack wondered about Daniel’s life before the SGC. He knew some of it – the being orphaned part, the shunning by his peers part - but there was a lot more to this man. It could easily be a life’s work, learning to know Daniel Jackson. Jack figured it would be a life well spent.

“I am trying to rein myself in when it comes to my ...”Daniel waved his fork in the air. “Stuff. There are times I’d annoy myself.”

“Well, this isn’t one of them,” Jack said, draining his glass.

The smile Daniel turned on him was dazzling. Jack’s approval, his validation, was making Daniel happy. And that, Jack realized, was making him happy, too. He smiled back, shifting his gaze away as soon and as naturally as he could, before his mouth could go dry at how Jack seemed able to make Daniel’s smile reach his eyes in a way no one else could. Jack was afraid he’d almost given himself away earlier with the way he’d bolted into the Gateroom to congratulate Daniel; the way he’d smiled so indulgently; the way he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from him.

He needed to be careful. Very careful. Daniel Jackson was dangerous. Attraction was one thing - Jack was well versed in locking that down – feelings were another thing entirely.

“I just hope everything will be okay,” Daniel said, wistfully.

_Me too,_ Jack thought, watching Daniel again. _Me too._

>>>>> 

**Summer**

“The sex wasn’t great, was it?”

Jack wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He lifted his head from the warm haven of Daniel’s bare chest and blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”

Daniel winced, which kind of played against the sated, rumpled, relaxed look that he’d assumed the second he came. “It’s been a while. I’m out of practice.”

Jack hefted up onto one shoulder, dislodging the sheet which slipped slowly onto the floor of his bedroom. “Pshaw. It’s like riding a bike.” They locked eyes, recognizing how inappropriately appropriate Jack’s choice of phrase was. In an instant, they also recognized the same insecurities in each other, and both let out relieved laughs, easing away the last of any tension that might have lingered.

Jack reached out and stroked his thumb across Daniel’s cheek. “You were fine,” he said, quietly.

Daniel closed his eyes. He loved to be touched. That shouldn’t have been a surprise to Jack. The man had always responded to his occasional displays of casual affection – the shoulder pats and hugs. But what they had just done in this bed was anything but casual, at least as far as Jack was concerned. It meant a whole lot. Jack just wasn’t sure how much he should let on that it meant a whole lot.

“I didn’t come here thinking this would happen,” Daniel said, opening his eyes, looking vaguely embarrassed. “I mean, I didn’t plan this. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It can’t be easy trying to pick up your life again after believing that you were never coming home.”

Jack shivered slightly despite the warm summer air. Sounds from the street drifted in through the open window – kids playing, a neighbor’s son tuning his car engine, a dog barking. But Daniel’s voice was the true sound of home. Jack had missed it so much. He’d thought everything was lost to him. Everyone. Laira was a wonderful woman but his feelings for her were intertwined with too many difficult emotions. He’d always remember her but he wouldn’t miss her. He’d known from the first day stranded on her planet where his heart lay.

He’d hadn’t been _in_ love with Daniel from the day they met but he’d loved him in every way that mattered. Romantic love, the kind that made his heart lurch at the curve of his smile, had grown over time, and he could acknowledge that now, to himself and Daniel at least.

“I know.” He did. He hadn’t meant for this to happen either. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was thinking Daniel was gone forever that had combined to shatter his defenses. But when Daniel had sat beside him on the couch and said softly, “I missed you, Jack. So much,” and had turned his face away in an effort to hide was what was written so plainly there, Jack had been able to do nothing but kiss him, gently at first, and then with all the pent-up feelings that he couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ fight anymore. “I didn’t plan this either.” He continued to stroke Daniel’s cheek, the slow movement lulling and comforting. “I’m kinda glad it happened though.”

Daniel smiled. “Me too.”

“And the sex was ... nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. Nice.”

“Oookay. Then I’m really not good at it. Nice is a pretty big insult there, Jack.”

Jack kicked Daniel playfully in the shin, mitigating his action by stroking his foot gently along the leg. It felt good. Intimate. Shockingly right. “We kissed, fooled around, I sucked you, you came. Making pretty amazing moany, coming noises, by the way. It was nice.”

Daniel kicked him back. “I’m pretty sure in the Sex: The First Time With a New Partner manual it tells you to refrain from telling your bed partner what he sounds like when he comes. Embarrassing doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Jack feigned shock, then reached out to touch more skin, running his fingers across Daniel’s chest. Wow. That he could do this now. “What? Like I said. Amazing.” He leaned in and stole another kiss, tasting coffee and wine. “You were amazing.”

Daniel smiled, a real heartbreaker of a gentle, happy smile. “I can do much better than that, believe me. Now that I’m back on the bike again.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And this time Daniel took a kiss, taking Jack’s chin in his hand, rubbing the soft bristle of off-world beard.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Jack said quietly, hating to bring other, difficult aspects of their lives into the new one they were tentatively forging together. “This has to stay between us. That’s non-negotiable. And I won’t give up the team. It has to come first. I guess, if any of that’s going to be a problem for you, you need to say so now.”

“Before you fall in love with me?”

Jack gave him the look. “You know I’ve fallen in love with you. Maybe ... before you fall in love with me?” He hated himself for asking. He couldn’t remember feeling this needy before.

Daniel quirked a half-there smile. “Too late.”

Jack’s heart skipped several beats. He’d known Daniel loved him as a friend. He’d thought Daniel loved him in a way that was more than friendship. He’d wanted to believe it. Hearing it was something else.

“I want you to know ... I would never have said anything, done anything, while there was any chance of you and Sha’uri ...”

Daniel closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I know. But thank you for saying that. My feelings were pretty mixed up there for a while.”

“You hid them well.”

Daniel had been as good at the art of concealment as Jack. It was a miracle they’d got this far.

“It wasn’t my feelings that were hiding. _I_ was hiding. I was pretty shut down.” Daniel frowned and for a moment seemed to be lost in thought.

“Hey. Loss is hard.” Jack’s fingers continued to twirl patterns across the smooth skin.

Daniel nodded and made a conscious effort to return to the here and now. “Let’s not talk about loss. Let’s talk about finding things instead.”

“Things?”

“New things. Like ... discovering how you bite your bottom lip when you’re trying not to come.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “I do that?”

“You do.”

“Well, it didn’t work. I came the second you did.”

Daniel glanced down at the drying evidence on Jack’s stomach. “I noticed.”

Jack hitched closer to Daniel, still touching, stroking. He didn’t seem able to stop. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

“Then we really need to play catch-up,” Daniel whispered, eyes darkening. He was getting hard and the sight of it did that mouth-drying thing again to Jack.

Daniel _was_ dangerous.

Jack closed his eyes, let Daniel push him onto his back and got ready to play with fire.

>>>>> 

**Fall**

When you play with fire, you get burned. Now, there’s a shocker.

He really should have known better. He’d fallen in love and everyone knew that love never ended well for Jack O’Neill. He’d loved his son beyond question or reason. He’d loved his wife with a fire he’d never thought possible. And Daniel? He’d loved Daniel within the boundaries of his commitment to duty and service. As he’d tried to live his life honouring the man he loved and the career that he once believed defined him, he’d felt himself failing twice over, and that’s when he’d started to pull away.

Daniel, of course, had tried to understand. The team came first. The needs of the many. Yadda. But the more Daniel tried, the more he failed, too, and neither of them was good at failing. So, they’d carried on fucking and stopped talking. It hurt more than either of them could cope with. Jack sought solace in dancing around Sam, while Daniel watched and slowly, inexorably withdrew from them all.

And then he went and saved an entire planet and doomed himself in the process.

Jack downed the last of the bottle of whiskey and leaned back into the sofa cushions. Outside, the wind howled a mournful lament as brittle leaves swirled and fell. His mom always called it the saddest season. “No argument from me, mom,” Jack said aloud into the evening silence, raising a glass to her memory.

He ran his hands over the seat beside him - the place where Daniel always sat - hoping to find something of him there, some lingering trace of Daniel-ness. They’d fucked here, laughed here, passed out here after boozy late nights here. But there was no sense of him. Daniel was gone.

Daniel had fucked off and joined the Ascended.

Well, screw that. And screw him. Screw them all. Screw Carter and her need to mourn, and Teal’c and his warrior-kin empathy, and Hammond and his stoic compassion. He needed none of them.

The one thing he needed he couldn’t have.

He threw his glass into the fireplace, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, the remnants of the alcohol causing flames to flare and spit before everything went back to how it was.

Except that nothing would ever be the same.

And screw that, too.

>>>>> 

**Winter**

Daniel didn’t remember. He called him Jim and said he “remembered enough” but he didn’t. He didn’t remember _them._

It took Jack a while to deal with that but he figured that some Daniel was better than no Daniel and he could learn to live with that. They went on missions, learned how to be SG-1’s Jack and Daniel and settled back into being part of the team. It was fine. Everything was fine. Jack settled for the occasional displays of casual affection that marked their early years of friendship and tried not to hate himself when he left his hand on Daniel’s shoulder just a fraction too long. Daniel came round for pizza and hockey. He ignored the hockey. He sat in the same place on the couch.

The house, that had only ever been a home when Daniel was in it, even when they were falling apart, felt desperately cold without him.

One Friday evening, three months after coming back, Daniel turned up at Jack’s place with Chinese take-out and a distracted demeanour.

“Smells good,” Jack said inhaling the tempting aroma emanating from one of the cartons deeply.

“You like Chinese, right?” Daniel tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter.

“I do.”

“At least I remembered that.”

Jack continued to unpack the food, all the while keeping a weather eye on Daniel. “You okay?”

Daniel pulled a face and sighed. “Sorry. Yes. I’m fine. Ignore me. It’s just ...” He stopped tapping his fingers and ran them through his hair instead, accompanying the gesture with a frustrated groan. “I’m sure I’m missing something important.”

Jack faltered in piling the boxes onto a tray. “Something from ... before?”

“Yeah. I don’t ... sometimes I think it’s almost there. I’ve almost got it. It’s like reaching for air and grasping nothing.”

Jack licked spilled hoi sin from his fingers, which gave him thinking time. He had to tread carefully here. “Fraiser said to let it happen naturally.”

“I know.” He sounded beyond frustrated. “And you’ve all been great about it, even though I know it’s been hard sometimes. I’ve seen you all biting your tongues, dying to tell me something that I have to remember on my own. I have recalled a lot, up to and including the fact that Budge is an abomination and eggnog is the work of the devil.” He paused, reaching out to save a carton from tipping over on the tray. “I’ll never know if I remember everything. How could I know that? But something’s missing, I’m sure of it.”

Jack gave Daniel an appraising look. He looked tired and a little drawn. He’d told Jack he wasn’t sleeping well; his dreams were full of images that disturbed and unsettled him, even though he didn’t remember them properly in the morning. They left him off-kilter for the rest of day, and that in itself was exhausting. Jack had been banned from reporting any of this to Janet. “Come on,” he said, “bring beer.”

Jack led the way into the living room, placing the tray of food on the coffee table. Daniel followed, a few seconds later. He sat on the couch. Jack couldn’t stop himself from tensing against the pain. The ease with which Daniel made himself at home – _home_ \- hurt so goddamned much.

“You always do that,” Daniel said, quietly, his gaze fixed on Jack as he handed him a bottle.

“Do what?”

“Kind of ... flinch. When I sit here.”

Jack swallowed. “Nice to see your over-active imagination is still intact.” He aimed for a mix of humor and customary sarcasm and failed on both counts. Daniel wasn’t buying it.

“Did we have a big argument once when I was here or something?” Clearly perplexed, he took a long swig of beer and looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time.

“We were always having big arguments.” He could have told him about the time, in this very room, Jack said there was no foundation to their friendship but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was one memory Jack hoped Daniel never recovered.

“Look. I know I said I remembered enough, back when I first returned to Earth. But obviously I don’t because I remember being your friend and offering opinions and coming to an accommodation when our views differed. I know you valued what I had to say. I don’t remember big arguments.”

Daniel drank some more. Jack drank, too. Maybe getting drunk was the way to go.

“Okay, maybe I was exaggerating. We disagreed.”

“But the friendship was there. It underpinned everything. It was what allowed us to disagree but go on working together, right?”

Jack dived into the chicken and cashew nuts, offering the box of special chow mein to Daniel.

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to say more. He didn’t want to tell Daniel that their friendship had almost been lost when their relationship crumbled. Those last few months of working side by side had been hell. Jack had been an ass and Daniel had been hurt and lost. No wonder ascension had seemed the preferred option, radiation poisoning notwithstanding.

Daniel picked out some chicken with his chopsticks and chewed slowly. “I’m glad,” he said, eventually. “Our friendship’s important. I sensed that much right from the start, actually. Before Teal’c pretty much confirmed it by telling me what a hard time you gave Jonas.”

“Teal’c said that?” The big guy never said much but he quietly observed everything.

“The implication was that you missed me on the team and in your life and that our friendship mattered. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Jack ate for a while, listening to the wind howling down the chimney. It was a snow wind. Inches of the damned stuff was forecast for later. “We’ll always have that,” Jack said, quietly, investigating the contents of the food carton closely and studiously avoiding Daniel’s eyes. If all this shit had taught him anything, it had proved that he couldn’t bear to lose Daniel’s friendship again. It mattered too much, personally and professionally. If nothing more were possible, friendship would be enough.

They ate in silence, the wind outside warring with the Puccini on the sound system. It was a compelling fusion that worked in an odd kind of way; Jack’s freeform jazz-loving father would approve. Jack mused on the merits of experimental music for a while rather than brood on anything more pressing, or more painful.

When they’d both eaten their fill, they sat back, beers in hand, looking for all the world like identical, overfed bookends.

After picking nervously at his beer bottle label for a while, Daniel asked, “If I ask you a question, do you promise to answer it? I mean, can you ignore the regulations in the privacy of your own home?”

Oh. Here it came. The longed for but long-feared question. Daniel was smart, of course he’d have worked it out. Jack mentally braced himself.

“I need to know ... was there ever anything between Sam and me?”

Okay. That wasn’t the question he was expecting, or hoping for.

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Come on, Jack. You’ve never been backward in coming forward when it comes to choosing which draconian Air Force rules to break. You can answer. You just won’t. I guess it tells me what I need to know.”

Irritation spiked. “No, Daniel. It doesn’t. And, anyway, I thought you’d ask her this? You said you did, back on the planet where we found you.” God, he wanted this conversation over. Wasn’t it time Daniel left? Didn’t he have somewhere to be?

“I did. She said there wasn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer. Carter is physically incapable of lying.”

“She could have been trying to protect me from the pressure of feeling ... feelings for her again. They might be impossible to recapture. Things have changed. I’m a different person now.”

_You’re not. You’re you._ _Still impossibly beautiful and beautifully impossible and I still love you._ How Jack didn’t say the words out loud he’d never know. The need to tell him was overwhelming. _We can get back what we had before it got so fucked up. I’ll make it right, make it better. I won’t be such a fucking idiot this time._

Daniel yawned. “I don’t know. I do feel very close to her.” He scrubbed a hand over his head in a tired gesture Jack recognized as one of his own. Old married couples adopted each other’s mannerisms through the years, they said. His heart broke just a little more.

“I don’t think there was ever anything ... romantic ... between you,” Jack offered, knowing he had to give him something. “But I wasn’t privy to all aspects of your life, and even less so to Carter’s, thank god. You’ve always had this science geek brotherhood ... sisterhood ... thing going on. Maybe you’re sensing that connection.”

Daniel yawned again. “Maybe. Sorry. I’m suddenly really tired.”

Jack waved his beer bottle towards Daniel’s. “It’s all that beer.”

“I’ve only had one.”

“Yep. All that beer.”

Daniel laughed then and it was a good thing to hear. He didn’t seem to laugh much these days. He’d never exactly been Laugh-a-Minute Guy, but since his return he appeared more quietly serious. Jack seized the moment and laughed with him. It felt so good.

“Would you mind if I had a coffee?” Daniel asked. “I need to wake up before I drive back to the Mountain. I’ve a ton of work waiting.”

“Sure.” He wanted to say, _You can sleep here_ , _screw the work for once,_ but he wasn’t certain he could cope with knowing Daniel was sleeping down the hallway when he needed him in his bed so badly. He gathered up the detritus of the meal and went into the kitchen to start the coffee. Through the window, he saw the first flakes of snow begin to fall. If Daniel didn’t leave soon, he’d definitely be staying.

Wandering back into the living room to warn him, Jack came to halt on the top step. Daniel was asleep, slumped sideways on the couch, empty beer bottle still in his hand.

Jack shook his head. The man was going nowhere tonight. He turned on his heel and fetched a blanket and pillow from the bedroom closet. Gently, he took the beer bottle from Daniel’s fingers, pushed him down fully onto his side and placed a pillow beneath his head. He couldn’t resist smoothing a slight frown from Daniel’s forehead before laying the blanket over him. Daniel didn’t stir at all. He must have been exhausted.

Switching off the light, Jack eased into the chair opposite the couch and watched Daniel sleep. Knowing he was close and safe filled him with a rare peace. He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and thanked a god he no longer believed in that Daniel was here. He noted the soft exhalations of breath and the way his lips sometimes twitched in sleep. He mentally logged everything, stored it away to bring out and examine when he was alone at night, until he couldn’t watch anymore and felt the world drift away as he slid into Daniel-filled dreams.

Who knew how long later, he woke to the strong, visceral feeling of being watched. The sensation had pinged him even in sleep; gotta love those years of military training.

Across the room, Daniel was sitting with his knees clutched to his chest, silently watching him, body tense. In the strange, unique light cast by the lying snow outside the window, Jack could see tears tracking slowly down Daniel’s cheeks.

“I remember,” he said softly, voice thick with emotion.

Before he could even think, before the enormity of what Daniel had said registered, Jack was reaching for him.

>>>>> 

**Coda: Spring**

“Looking good, Daniel.” Jack accompanied the praise with a quick kiss on the cheek and squeeze of the butt as he leaned past him to put the gutted fish in the skillet.

Daniel gave him the eye but looked anything but offended. “Why, thank you.”

“The fish. I meant the fish.”

“I knew that.”

They grinned at each other.

“I taught you everything you know, of course.” Jack couldn’t let it go.

“About filleting a freshly-caught fish? Absolutely. About anything else? Bite me.”

Jack added butter to the pan and held the fish pieces skin-side down to crisp, while Daniel turned his attention to the salad and potatoes.

“It’s beautiful here in spring,” Daniel said, sounding vaguely surprised.

“It’s beautiful here any season.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep your winters here. When I promised to love and honor you, no hint of obey, I hope you noted, there was no mention of putting up with dodgy generators, unreliable hot water and ice on the inside of the bedroom window.”

Jack let it go. Daniel loved it here any time of the year. The grumping was part of the game they played.

Jack looked out at the lake while the trout crackled and spat in the pan. It was what his grandfather used to call “a hopeful morning,” offering the prospect of a fine day ahead, perfect for hiking or fishing. It was late morning, actually. Something had kept them up late last night and the same thing had kept them in bed late this morning. Jack smiled to himself; honeymoon sex was the best sex. Outside, the sky was an unbelievable blue, the grass a rich green and the water calm, only a few lazy ripples to be seen lapping against the side of Jack’s ageing fishing boat.

Jack flipped the fish and spooned the butter over it. The healthy eating plan could fuck itself for a few days. They were celebrating.

Daniel leaned in and inhaled deeply. “Smells good,” he said, smiling. He looked amazing, kind of rumpled, kind of beautiful. Kind of married.

Jack nuzzled his neck. “You smell better.”

Daniel sighed a contented “hmmm” and his breath hitched, the way it did when he was starting to get turned on. God, they were acting like hormonal teenagers, rather than a recently-retired Air Force General and a semi-retired specialist Government consultant. Reluctantly, Jack pulled his attention from Daniel and back to the frying fish.

“Couple of minutes here,” he said, checking the firmness of the fish.

“I’m ready.”

Daniel took the green salad and potatoes over to the table and poured two glasses of the fine wine Sam had given them as a wedding gift with the accompanying instruction, “And yes, do drink it all at once.”

Jack slid the fish onto warmed plates and joined Daniel at the table. They clinked glasses and started to eat. As he paid the fish due reverence, Jack mentally mapped out a hike for the afternoon; a couple of hours max, then back for steak sandwiches, cold beer and hot sex. Who needed idyllic beaches and fancy hotels? He had exactly what he needed right here.

Scant minutes later, their plates were empty and their glasses were heading the same way.

“Great fish. You did good, Jack,” Daniel said, raising his glass in salute.

Jack looked at the man who was now his husband, who had taken this amazing, difficult but oh-so-worth-it journey with him for the better part of two decades and who would be at his side for the rest of whatever years they had left. He’d never been happier.

He topped up the wine, and raised his glass in return.

“No, Daniel. _We_ did, good.”

 

ends


End file.
